


And, Like Clockwork, We Fall

by ExpendableVoice



Category: RWBY, Wakfu
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpendableVoice/pseuds/ExpendableVoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sought to change time. For 200 years, the Xelor known as Nox had brought destruction and tragedy to the World of Twelve. And yet, it all amounted to nothing. The very Gods deemed him unworthy of reincarnation, banishing him to the void beyond the Krosmoz. But, for good or ill, this plaything of fate still has a role to play. And now, a broken man finds himself in a broken world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1-0: Reincarnation

 

**1-0. Reincarnation**

  
\-----  
  
Wakfu.  
  
This eternal energy is the very source of creation, the power that flows through the universe known Krosmoz. It is present in all things, both living and inanimate, and is the very thread that ties the Krosmoz together. Through every man, woman and child flows Wakfu. Every living thing, whether it be beast, monster, or plant, has Wakfu within it. And even the ground we walk on, the air we breathe, and the sea that brings us life are conduits for Wakfu to flow. No matter what it is, Wakfu is present in all things, for it is the very force of creation itself.  
  
But creation is only one side of a coin. When the flow of Wakfu is stemmed, that energy does not disappear. Instead, it is changed into its antithesis: Stasis. Where Wakfu is the embodiment of creation, Stasis is the embodiment of destruction. Rather than the cool blue hue of Wakfu, the energies of Statis is raw, undirected power, capable of unmaking nearly anything in a brilliant flash of purple. And, like Wakfu, it too is present in all things, for they are one and the same, yet paradoxically different.  
  
Both Wakfu and Stasis hold great power, and it should come as no surprise that some have attempted to understand—and control—this power... No matter the cost.  
  
The Xelor known as Nox was one such man, and his ambitions have brought ruin and despair to all in the World of Twelve. In order to harness Wakfu, he created countless machinations to forcibly extract it from the land. And, for two hundred years, his research and extraction went unopposed, slowly building more and more for the sake of his plot. No human could stop his ascent, for Nox was a patient man who bided his time, sending his machines to lands out of sight and mind to continuously gather energy. His Noxines, the small bug-like contraptions he used to siphon Wakfu, acted both as gatherers and spies to ensure his plans went unhindered.  
  
This all changed when the Xelor learned of the dragon, Grougaloragran, as well as the child in the dragon's care. Nox's methods grew more overt, as he finally found a truly great source of Wakfu in that dragon. No longer would he be in the shadows, as the man began preparing for a confrontation against the dragon. Remote villages would be attacked, their defenders and denizens drained of most of their Wakfu. Noxines were released in droves, all in order to find the ancient beast. The plants he consumed were no longer simple trees, but instead entire forests, and he himself battled against the very treant guardians that protected these forests, in order to collect their Wakfu.  
  
And it was due to one such battle that chance revealed to him the child of the dragon: Yugo.  
  
Whether it was luck or fate, Yugo lived in village closest to the forest that Nox had attacked. The 12 year old child awoke to his abilities, and after a brief altercation with the Xelor, left to find his parent. Nox used this opportunity to shadow Yugo, his Noxines trailing just behind the boy, for he knew that it would lead him to the ancient dragon. Yugo's group of motley adventurers grew, earning their place in the world until they became known as the Brotherhood of the Tofu. The child found his dragon brother, Amadai, and their journey brought them close to his goal. In turn Nox's powers expanded, more Wakfu being funneled into his efforts, and the man even began incorporating Stasis into his machinations.  
  
In time, Nox met the dragon, clashing with it at the desolate Oma Island. Here, Nox fought, both with his countless machines, and his twisted Xelor powers over time. Clockwork swarms and mummified memories of forgotten heroes all battled against the eternal dragon. Yet, with all his power, Nox was still unable to defeat it, as Grougaloragran chose sacrifice over defeat. Just like that, years of Wakfu was wasted... and Nox grew angry. His sights shifted from the ancient dragon to a primordial existence, and the Xelor resolved to attack the Tree of Life.  
  
The Tree of Life was tied to the very existence of the Sadidas, humans who were in tune with Nature itself. Their abilities to speak with plants and earth, to call upon glorious vines or to bring dolls to life were formidable, and they held close ties with the treants of old. Yet even these powers were not enough, as the clockwork army of Nox soon drove itself deeper and deeper into the territories of the Sadida. Abandoned by the other nations, it was only through the combined efforts of the Sadida people and the Brotherhood of the Tofu that was Nox finally stopped.  
  
And yet, after all he's done, not one person could fathom _why_ the madman sought so much power. The Brotherhood of the Tofu couldn't understand, and the Sadida people only viewed Nox as a twisted force of destruction. Even the brothers who were at the culmination of the battle, Yugo and Amadai, had no clue why the man made so many sacrifices. All they knew was that Nox held the Eliacube, an artifact of immense power, and believed it could talk to him.  
  
Truly a madman.  
  
So why was his final words not of his defeat, but of his long-forgotten family?  
  
No one knew. And no one would ever know. With the last of his power, Noximilien Coxen, the man beneath Nox, teleported away, disappearing forever from the World of Twelve. No one else in this world would be bothered by the existence of this madman, and never again would anyone suffer for his twisted ambitions. The force of destruction known as Nox had ended.  
  
All remained of the Xelor's legacy was clockwork scrap, a swath of destruction, and a story of hubris for future generations. These were what truly mattered to the eyes of history. Nothing else mattered: Neither Nox's unfounded goals, nor the past he had left behind. Not even the pile of dust and bandages, scattered over three, unmarked graves, would be remembered.  
  
\-----  
  
The disciples of gods name themselves after their gods. Xelor, the Great Timekeeper, is worshiped by group known as Xelor's Sandglass. Iop's Heart worship the Iop, The Lord of the Brave. There exists names for each god that presides over the World of Twelve. Some groups seem outlandish with their naming, such as the followers of Sadida, who call themselves Sadida's Shoe. But, in spite of their names, every devout follower holds their gods in high esteem, for good reason.  
  
Make no mistake; These gods are very much real.  
  
When a soul dies, it is brought to the plane of Incarnam, where they undergo the rite of reincarnation, in order to be born again into the Krosmoz. And though the process has been stemmed once or twice, usually by the misguided ambition of an annoying demon lord, it is mostly left untouched. Usually, this system of existence is left alone, with neither gods nor demons seeking to disrupt the delicate balance.  
  
However, the being known as Nox is _not_ the usual case.  
  
The man was so twisted by his actions that his spirit, rather than revert to the blank slate of the Disembodied, remained a mockery of his previous life. No human features remained for Noximilien Coxen, a man so thoroughly ripped by insanity and drive. His very being was nothing more than a humanoid mummy, wearing his signature robotic mask and his Wakfu harness. It seems that even the forces of creation chose to remember, not the cheerful watchmaker Noximilien, but rather the villain Nox.  
  
Or, perhaps, Noximilien died centuries ago, another victim of Ogrest's chaos, and this mad shell was all that remained.  
  
Regardless, Nox stood before the Gods of the world, the blue lights of his mask devoid of emotion as he watched the space before him. If he were someone else, perhaps he would've found joy, confusion, or veneration as he watched the Gods of the world argue and debate. The beings responsible for the World of Twelve stood before him, and many followers would be awestruck at the sight of their persons of worship. However, none of that mattered to Nox, and the broken man merely fixed his focus on empty space, as the voices of gods rang out.  
  
"This is outrageous! He has done far too much. To let him reincarnate is a reward he is unworthy of." Sadida, the God of Masks, was the first to speak. His tone was laced with fury, the very stars echoing in the background as he yelled his complains. Countless dolls hovered around the humanoid Masked god, each with a stitched expression of unbridled anger. "My followers almost died because of his ambitions. Do you understand me? **All** of them almost died. Let his spirit be fed to Rushu and the demons instead."  
  
The Angel of Compassion, Sacrier, was the next to speak, her voice far softer in contrast to her fellow god. "His path was one of turmoil, and though he harmed many in his wake, it was through misguided belief. Not malice. Though the fault of his actions was his own, he was the one misled by the Eliacube. Isn't the rite of reincarnation enough to absolve him? His trials will likely take centuries, but that's enough, isn't it?" The angel appealed to the ten other gods who were in attendance, trying to find someone to support her.  
  
"Sacrier." The Golden Dragon, Enutrof, was the one who chose to meet her question. "You are the youngest of the gods, the last to join our pantheon, so I understand if you have some attachment with humans. Make no mistake, though. The transgressions of Nox far exceeds the tragedies of humans passed, and this discussion **must** take place. To blindly send him to Incarnam would be undermining the system that everything is built upon." The dragon's words were decidedly neutral, as he spoke of the necessity of the debate, rather than the content. And he was not alone, as few of the gods had any vested interest in the event before them.  
  
"We have a duty to the _people_ as much as we do to the system, Enutrof." Another voice rang out, this one firm as the Goddess of the Shield, Feca, made her position bare. "Nox clearly acted with harm in mind. He could've chosen to ignore the cube, but instead sought out more power. And for what? A chance for the impossible? We're _lucky_ that his actions only costed lives. It could've been much worse: Imagine how much chaos there would be if he had broken Xelor's clock. To destroy the concept of time itself was something he could've done by accident."  
  
At those words, a few of the gods turned their attention to the Celestial Clock. Since the dawn of their birth, the gods have used Xelor's clock to record the fabric of time. Even now, soft cracks have begun to form, the aftermath of Ogrest's chaos still fresh on the immaculate face. There was a chill in the nonexistent air, for no one present could predict what would happen should the clock break.  
  
"Yes... Feca does have a point." Despite the circumstances, one god still had time for a chiding voice. A chesire grin was plastered on the face of the Cat God of Chance, Ecaflip. His slitted eyes, amber in colour, flickered to one god in particular, falling on the only one who had been silent throughout the entire exchange. "Tell me, Xelor, what do you think about this? After all, it's your follower we're talking about."  
  
As always, Xelor stood silent, towering above the other gods as his eternal robes hid his features. By his side was his mace, an imposing constant for the Keeper of Time. For the first time in the entire meeting, Xelor shifted his gaze, the pitch-black hood of his garb fixing itself on Nox. A faint wisp of dust escaped his figure, and the other gods stood with apprehension as they waited for the guardian of time to speak.  
  
"Noximilien Coxen was no Xelor."  
  
It wasn't a statement of abandonment, or any kind of judgement. The echoing voice that rang out was a simple declaration of fact, and simply one of many that had been lost to time. It took a moment for the gods to understand, but they finally realized one important fact.  
  
"... You're right." The God of Beasts, Osamodas, was the next to respond. A wyvern wrapped itself around the horned god, and his eyes fell on the spirit of Nox. "The watchmaker Noximilien was never a follower Xelor, so we should not treat him as such."  
  
"That just means the Eliacube had twisted him to this degree!" Sacrier spoke out again, her voice wavering. It wasn't due to lack of conviction, but rather the implications of that fact which caused the lady of compassion to lose her voice. After all, to lose your very identity in the pursuit of false hope was something she saw time and time again, whether it be fallen soldiers or misguided bandits, and the goddess was only emboldened in her position. "He, more than anyone else, deserves a chance to reincarnate."  
  
"Do you truly believe that, Sacrier?" Her voice was soft, but her words reached the rest of the gods all the same. Cra, the Goddess of the Hunt, fixed her eyes firmly on her fellow goddess, locked with the lady of compassion as she continued. "He has far more flaws than you let on. Nox has broken the lives of many men and women, and the idealistic, romantic veneer you paint on the man won't do anything to change that fact. I understand that you're more... sensitive to the workings of humans, but you cannot stop yourself from seeing the bigger picture." As she saw Sacrier's expression fall, the Goddess of the Hunt couldn't help but lighten her tone, speaking again with far less of an edge. "However, don't mistake my criticisms for judgement; I only wish that everyone takes the time to properly observ-"  
  
"Enough! This debate is going nowhere, and it's boring to watch." A living skull made his disdain bare. Sram, the Lord of the Shadows, had long since grown tired of this charade. He let out a sigh, waving his hand dismissively while one of his leathery wings mimicked the gesture. "Just send him into the void and be done with it."  
  
"That might be a little tooo far..." Eniripsa was the goddess known only as the Miracle Fairy, and her diminutive statue matched her name as she fluttered about. "But it is better than just throwing him to the demons. And I understand Sacchi's point of view, but Nox _did_ do a lot of bad things." The fairy made her way to Nox, her eyes on fixed on the metal mask that consumed the man's face. For the most part, Nox made no effort to acknowledge her, his gaze still staring at some inconsequential point beyond the gods. "Whaddya think, Noxie?"  
  
"..."  
  
"He says he wants to be a spaceman!" As if that resolved everything, Eniripsa floated back to her spot, humming daintily as she settled down. "So that's that! We ship him off into space!"  
  
"That doesn't solve anything!" It was Sadida's turn to be outraged, his mask somehow changing to an even angrier expression of rage. "He's a danger to everything. There's no reason we should just leave him alone. It's better to just end the problem here and now!"  
  
"And ending the problem is exactly what we're doing, Saddy. We send him off away from us, so he won't be bothering the World of Twelve any more. You'll be happy since he's out of your hair, and Sacchi will be happy since he'll still get to be him!"  
  
"How would I be happy with that? Exile into some unknown place? That's even worse than just ending his life!" To say that Sacrier was upset was putting it lightly. "Having him drift in the emptiness of space is a fate worse than death!"  
  
At those words, an unexpected god gave a grin. "Don't worry about it, _Sacchi_." A certain cat god gave a mysterious smile, turning to the lady of Compassion as Ecaflip arched his back. "Call it a hunch, but I'm certain our little tin mummy still has a fair amount of _luck_ left in him. He'll be fine." From anyone else, those words might simply be a teasing remark, but no other god was silly enough to refute the God of Chance on this matter. With a final smirk, Ecaflip turned his attention to Nox. "I only wonder whether this is good luck or bad."  
  
\-----  
  
On that night, a brilliantly blue shooting star descended over the night sky of Vale. It was a rare sight to behold, but one that filled observers with fascination. To children, a shooting star was something straight out of a fairy tale. For good or ill, it was the only bit of magic these children could see.  
  
_Somewhere, a little red ten-year-old watched the streak of blue with fascination, resting down beside her elder sister._  
A blonde boy gritted his teeth in frustration, as one of his many siblings calmed him down.  
A girl in black, disillusioned by the world, puts on a mask for the first time.  
  
But children were not the only ones who spotted this sight. While a shooting star may be a symbol to the younger generations, the older ones know better, and viewed the meteor of something else entirely.  
  
_A surveyor for a certain mining company made note of potential resources._  
The scout of a particular group of Faunus did the same.  
A common criminal ignored the sight, using it as a starting cue as he began his own little devices.  
One teacher made a quick change to his syllabus, giving himself a little more time for his huntsmen duties.  
  
Even with their age, not everyone had enough experience. It was only the truly wise who made note of this shimmering light.  
  
_An old man adjusted his glasses, taking a sip from his mug._  
Another old man straightened his pristine white suit, eyes fixed firmly on the footage as his subordinates stood at attention.  
A young lady frowned, brushing her dark hair aside, eyes filled with doubt as she made some changes to future plans.  
One final person gave a sigh, bloodied, down on his knees as power was passed from an old leader to the newer, hot-blooded generation.  
  
Yet, for all their worth, humans and faunus were not the only things that lived on the world of Remnant. If anything, they were the minority, as a veritable sea of darkness began to stir. It was no secret that the creatures of grimm are drawn to negative emotions. Despair, anger, frustration... All of these are like a beacon for the wayward creatures of destruction.  
  
So, when that azure star descended from the night sky, wreathed with the sensation of a broken man, was it any surprise that grimm swarmed like flies?


	2. 1-1: Fall

**1-1. Fall**

* * *

"Alright boys and girls. Any questions?"

It was a gruff voice, one laced with equal parts experience and chain-smoker. The voice's owner had a sour expression on his face, and the dim lights of the Bullhead was not enough to hide the passive glare that the man gave. He wore an armoured jumpsuit, a dull blue garb completely devoid of any distinguishable features besides rough armour plating, and a single prominent logo.

Rhinestone Industries. Nice and fancy, complete with an embossed generic gem in the background.

His gaze fell on the rest of his companions. There were over a dozen men and women in front of him, each wearing a jumpsuit identical to his own, all strapped into the seats of the aircraft. Half of them wore listless expressions that bounced between irritated and tired, while the other half were outright sleeping. This group of youngsters were supposed to be the best the company had to offer?

Of course not. They were a scout team, meant to survey points of interest in the areas surrounding Vale. Who decided these points of interest were far beyond the man's pay grade, and he honestly could not care less. Rather than think about why he was about to leave for some grimm-infested forest, however, his thoughts were on the people before him. Sure, the group he had to babysit might've worried him, but he knew full well that these men and women were all capable scouts with adequate combat and survival training.

Which translated to 'they could keep grimm busy enough for the security droids to mop them up properly'.

Hell, this wasn't the first batch of trainees he'd received this week, and based on their performance so far, they wouldn't be the last. Just as he was about to contemplate whether he should bother learning their names this time around, an annoyed voice answered his question.

"Yeah. What the hell are we doing up this early?" This came from some blue-haired brat, whose expression leaned more to the annoyed spectrum than his peers. A few more of the personnel grunted in approval of the young man's question, before the veteran's gaze silenced them all.

"As I'm sure you know, sparky, there was a big blue meteor in the sky about half an hour ago." The veteran's eyes fell on the brat, staring him down with mild irritation as he let out a sigh. "Since the damned thing could be seen from Patch, the higher ups figure it's a large enough chunk to be worth inspecting. And since you've all signed up for the glorious private security forces of Rhinestone Industries," He brought a hand up to his chest in mock salute, his voice growing nasally and sarcastic, " _The leading competitor in minerals acquisition_ , you're legally obligated to join the survey team. They ran the thing through a few computers, and figured it'll fall somewhere in the southern wilds."

"But why this early?" It seemed that that answer wasn't good enough for 'sparky', who continued his incessant complaints. "And why so much tech if we're just doing a survey? We must've loaded up four or five bullheads."

"Because the wildlands are about two hours away. Get comfortable, princess." The veteran drew out another sigh, his hand searching through his outfit for something to smoke. Of course, he had nothing because of some policy or another, but it was an old habit he frequently reverted to whenever he had to deal with idiots. "And the gear's because of rumours that some _undesirables_ are camped out in the wilderness. Security precautions. You know how it is."

"You mean the White Fang?" The voice that asked this question came from some red-haired girl. A bit taller than sparky, and a lot more mature. At least she seemed to know a bit more than the blue-haired moron.

"Yeah. They've been getting a bit rowdy with their 'protests' lately, and since they already hate our guts, the guys up top figure we should be prepared for, and I quote, 'any unexpected conflicts'." It was no secret that Rhinestone Industries was one of the more controversial companies in the market, and even if titans like the Schnee Dust Company took the brunt of the media fallout, Rhinestone Industries was no saint. Given how important they made this meteor sound, it was likely that the pockets behind Rhinestone weren't the only ones interested in it.

"Any other questions?"

""No sir.""

"Good, now get comfortable. Don't want you kids falling asleep while you're wrestling a beowolf."

Without giving them another glance, the veteran turned his attention back to his Scroll, sending a few messages to his benefactor as the Bullhead began its take-off.

* * *

The creatures of grimm are monsters beyond comprehension. Far more intelligent than the common beast, these monsters have ravaged the world of Remnant since time immemorial. They were the enemies of ancient people, and that constant remains true to this day, as time and evolution groomed these creatures into beasts of pure destruction.

Yet, as intelligent as they may be, it would be a mistake to label them as sapient. Perhaps the eldest of grimm, those who have survived longer than the civilizations of old, could exhibit this property, if they dared to show themselves. However, the younger generations, the ones who do not have the skill nor experience to survive beyond a century, could never hope to achieve the level intelligence required to be considered more than beasts.

No. The young ones follow a simple task, a primal instinct that is undeniable in both its brevity and execution: Find people, kill people.

What do the creatures of grimm classify as people? Human and Faunus, of course; in spite of all the distinctions that these groups make for one another, the creatures of grimm treat both as prey. As sport.

These monsters seek out nothing else, for they will not hunt animals, nor will hunt for the sake of survival and sustenance. It is the instinct of grimm to kill people, for the sake of killing people.

And so, they hunt. Quite easily, really, since people always congregate where negative emotions gather, if they themselves are not the source. Whether it is through conventional senses, or through feeling these negative emotions, the grimm will always seek out people to kill. If they can kill these people, then they have succeeded, but if they don't, then it is because something repelled them. The ones that live gain something valuable called 'experience', and live to try and kill once more.

Simple.

So why was this situation not simple at all?

"Rrrh..." A hoarse growl came from the Alpha Beowolf. It and its pack was the closest to the impact site, where the clot of despair fell. Instinct directed its motions, and neither rock nor river nor trees could stop its advance. It, alongside its countless brethren, slowly converged on the open plains where the hunt awaited. For surely, with a cloud as thick as this, the prey would be numerous.

So why was this not the case?

The plains contained no fire of aura, nor the sight of people. Rather than prey, corralled and herded by fear, the land contained a single humanoid doll.

Not a sound echoed from this doll, for the Beowolf could not hear the telltale pumps of blood or breath. It tried to catch a scent in the air, but neither blood nor sweat clung to the figure. Instead of the scent of life, there was only metal and dust—not the blazing Dust used by prey or their toys, but the dust that's left when no quarry remains. And where sound and scent failed, so too did sight, for the doll looked more like a prop than a person. Its only distinguishable feature was a mask of faded metal, a dull blue gleaming from two circular holes, mechanically watching the Beowolf while creature examined it.

The grimm's instinct fared no better, for monster could sense no blaze of aura. Sure, the ground had the dull seep of light, as did the critters and plants that dot the landscape, but these were not flames. The humanoid doll held nothing of the sort, not faint wisps of warmth that once belonged to the land, nor the twisted Dust nerves of the toys built by people.

Instead, there was a dull hue of... something. Something that was like aura, yet so unmistakably different, it simply could not be. A light that gradually flickered, slowly twisting and dimming into something _else_. Over the course of a few minutes, this glint gradually shifted into a dark glow, something far closer to grimm than aura, with the Beowolf unable to do anything but watch. And yet, the mysterious glow remained alien all the same, as different from the nature of grimm now, as it was from aura a few moments ago.

To the monsters of grimm, there was only one conclusion: this was not prey.

And the Alpha Beowolf was not the only creature to realize this. Another pack arrived, watching and gathering around the _thing_. An Ursa approached, as did a flock of lesser Nevermore soon after.

Each creature was led by the unmistakable stench of emotion, yet their only action was to idle like the first.

They were intelligent beasts, but beasts all the same, and the creatures of destruction were unable to do anything but sit and watch as the doll's purple eyes thrummed listlessly, as more and more grimm mindlessly gathered around the unspoken emotions.

* * *

Not far from the impact site was a certain encampment, hidden away from the prying eyes of civilization. Built from the ruins of a forgotten frontier town, this little encampment was filled with people who could not accept the world as it was. And so, they came here, to live in the wilderness away from judgement and oppression. Not under the dominion of any Kingdom, this fort stood as a testament against the world, defiant against the rest of the world and all of its dangers, right in the den of monsters.

There were hundreds of people in this base, and their efforts had long restored the ruins into something usable. Though they were off the map, the place had survived grimm assaults for well over a year, and the faunus that dwelt within were emboldened by this fact.

"Hey, is the captain in?" The voice belonged to one of the sentries, a deer faunus who had been on night watch. The woman was a long-standing resident of this base, having watched over its walls since the day it had been rebuilt. Atop the stone walls, she had seen everything, from the moment this town's welcome sign had been rebuilt, to the countless new faces belonging to recruits who constantly joined every month. "I have some news about the meteor that I think he'll be interested in."

The man she was talking to, a bear faunus of considerable build, shook his head in response. "Nope, sorry. He's currently at the barracks, briefing people on our new supplies."

This caused the deer faunus to raise an eyebrow, though the gesture itself was hidden by their group's signature mask. "But I thought our supplies were only there in case of emergencies. Why would he need to brief everyone at the barracks?" Call it instinct or age, but the woman had a bad feeling about this...

And it was immediately proven true the moment her companion spoke. "You didn't hear? Leadership finally changed a few moments ago, and now they want all groups to start preparing. The old ways are no longer enough, and with the Kingdoms pressing more and more of our people into subservience, we need to defend ourselves. In fact, could you call over the rest of the sentries? There's some new things you guys need to get acquainted with, as well."

"Changed...?" This was surprising in more ways than one. Sure, there had been plenty of murmurings of unrest among the organization, with a growing number of people pushing for action rather than passive protesting. Yet, even if a change occurred, shouldn't it have taken more than a few _moments_? White Fang was not a small organization, so the fact that new orders would come so soon after a shift was almost unthinkable. The woman had no idea how to approach this, and she couldn't even consider the next part of the guard's words until he cleared his throat. "Oh, right... Do you need all the sentries, though?"

"Yep, 'fraid so. There's a lot of new tech we've got that need to be installed on the walls, so he wants to make sure you're all familiar with it. I'll send some guys up to keep watch in the mean time, but the captain said that you full-time sentries need to be present for this." It was a simple order, a statement of finality mixed with a bit of excitement in the bear faunus's words, as he urged his comrade on. "I mean, have you seen the stuff? Some of those cannons could crack a fortress, and we've got enough AA batteries to drive off a small fleet."

To say the female sentry was worried would be an understatement. Sure, they were a sizable base, but why would they need things of that caliber? Though the deer faunus was in a hurry, she _had_ to ask. "Isn't that excessive? Do we really need that much?"

"Guess you really haven't seen our supplies, huh? We're being converted to an arms depot, since we're one of the more fortified points in the area. Didn't you see the crates of dust that came with the last convoy?"

""WHAT?!""

It wasn't just the deer faunus who was surprised by this new information. As chance would have it, the Captain of the garrison had unveiled this little tidbit of information at the exact same time as the guard did, so a great deal of the White Fang let out a similar cry. The collective feeling of alarm was soon replaced by doubt and confusion; What did this mean for the future? Were they really going to go through with this? Are they going to far? Or was it not far enough? Was this really the right thing to do, or was this something they should've done long ago?

Either way, tension and unease filled the air.

So it was no surprise that the creatures of grimm, nearly half of the tide that was drawn in by the azure meteor from before, had found themselves some prey.

* * *

Nox watched. There was nothing else he could do.

He had no drive for anything else, as the last few... minutes? hours? Days? repeated in his mind. He couldn't even ask himself where it went wrong. There was absolutely no desire to question whether his mistake was due to something he missed, or something his opponents had done, or something the dragon had change. He couldn't even bring up the effort to consider the Eliacube again.

And that's because it didn't matter anymore. It's over, one way or another. Those twenty minutes marked the final failure of Noximilien Coxen. Two hundred years of ... effort? No, it was more than that. Effort may not always be directed, and is sometimes wasted. No, what Nox had done for those two hundred years was something far more than mundane effort. For he truly believed that, whatever happened in those two hundred years, it could all be undone at the end.

Yet, he had failed, and had been cast aside by fates and Gods alike. It was with those thoughts that his form was finally returned to dust, finally leaving the World of Twelve, finally dying beside the last things that Noximilien Coxen held dear.

Even then, death was not the end, and the spirit of Nox continued. He briefly recalled the faint buzzes that had been an argument of deities, the hums having barely registered in his memory. Equally unimportant to him was his disembodied form, the very representation of his soul, somehow appearing as the mummified and encased armour of the Xelor Nox, rather than the ancient watchmaker Noximilien.

He cared for nothing that happened in that timeless span of moments. There was no reason to, after all, and he had merely watched with silence as the Gods came to their verdict. The Xelor paid no mind as the gods began some involved incantation, gazing with disinterest as Wakfu tore through space, directed by the Gods as it made something completely new. And he cared little when the gods began filling the Xelor's own spirit with this same power.

Perhaps this Wakfu was some final form of mockery, of telling him that, no matter what he could've tried, his aspirations and goals lay somewhere far beyond his reach. The amount they had forced on him far surpassed what he could've gathered, even if he had somehow managed to acquired the dragon.

But none of that mattered now, and the Xelor ignored the unexplained boon as the gods sent him through the unknown tear.

Just as quickly as the Wakfu came, it was stripped away, cast apart by the emptiness of space, dwindling and burning in a streak of blue. Energies of creation faded out of existence, and Nox knew that he had left the very Krosmoz itself. Soon his vision replaced by _nothing_ , the sense of sight completely robbed from him as he traveled through that empty place. The void stretched onwards, continuing for who knows how long, until sight suddenly returned to the Xelor.

Again he could see, and the first sight that greeted Nox was a broken moon as it passed him by, gazing back at him as the dredges of a watchmaker began to fall. The moon's broken light held the same listless apathy that had filled the Xelor's mind the moment those fateful twenty minutes had ended.

After all, Noximilien Coxen had no more place in the world. Whether it was the World of Twelve, or wherever he was now, Noximilien simply had no place _anywhere_ anymore.

That fact finally hit him.

A blue light tore through the night sky, Wakfu fading away to nothingness, dying in a brilliant blaze as Noximilien Coxen cried for the last time. The gout of despair was silent, deaf to all who could not hear it, but shrill everything that could. And, as Nox descended, it stopped.

It didn't matter anymore. Little energy remained inside the Xelor's suit when it finally made landfall, and the powers that had fueled it were mostly expended. The Xelor had landed in some plains somewhere, completely _different_ from the world before. The final sparks of energy inside Nox's suit gradually began to stagnate, isolated in a world not built from the Krosmoz.

Standing silent, the figure made no movement, even as a beast of black and bone emerged from the underbrush. Crimson eyes fell on Nox, yet the Xelor made no movements. Who knows how long the beast stood still, observing the broken man as more shadows and more shadows emerged. Neither side, not the clockwork corpse nor the beasts of shadow, made an effort to do anything. The masked monsters were content to just settle in front of the Xelor.

So Nox watched. There was nothing else it could do.


	3. 1-2: Routine

**1-2. Routine**

* * *

"Grimm inbound!"

The fact that those words immediately followed the sudden revelation did little to ease the Faunus. There was a moment of silence as the White Fang tried to process their sudden militarization, with only the panicked voices of the sentries in the background, crackling through the radio in between bursts of gunfire. Still, there were still a few faunus who did not stand dumbfounded, and these men and women did their best to rally the others, as the gravity of the situation fell on them.

A tiger-faunus, the Captain of the fort, was one such person. He had to make a split decision between calming the crowd and gathering more information. Unfortunately, instinct told him that the sentries were on borrowed time, so he chose to bolt to the nearest radio communicator. Already, he could hear the growls of grimm grow louder on the other side.

"What's going on? What are their strength and numbers?" Grimm attacks were not uncommon in the wildlands, and raids from Beowolf packs were almost a daily occurrence. Yet, they were never more than a nuisance, as the fortified encampment had carved out its own place in the wilds. There were few larger grimm in the area, and while they would get the occasional Usra Major or three, the encampment was armed enough to deal with anything up to a Deathstalker.

So the fact that the sentries were this panicked filled the Captain with dread. How bad was the situation?

"The situation's bad!" The first voice to respond only did so after a sustained burst of gunfire, inadvertently answering the Captain's question as she yelled back. "There's too much grimm out here! More than anything we've see- Nevermore flock!" Something else took the attention of the woman on the other side, as shrill avian screeches filled the air. A loud explosion sounded out, one that even the Captain could hear, and the man frowned.

This made no sense. Nevermore never flocked in this area, at least not in enough numbers to threaten the encampment. To say nothing else of the other grimm that were undoubtedly attacking. But, rather than deal with the absurdity of the notion, the Captain trusted those under his command, and took their warning to heart. Turning back to the rest of the crowd, he could still see confusion fresh on the faunus' faces, not quite able to comprehend what was going on. So, he did what anyone in his position would do.

The Tiger-faunus's semblance flared up, aura gleaming around his form, his eyes flickering with a blue hue as he _roared_. His voice reached even the sentries on the encampment's edge, the power of his soul carrying his words.

"We will **not** fall." The words echoed out so clearly, that even the grimm in the outskirts paused, growling in confusion at the sudden voice. "For years, we've been unable to find a place in this world, abandoned by the kingdoms and governments who gave us false promise. So, alone, we had no choice but to carve out a place for ourselves—our own home in this wilderness."

Emerald eyes, wreathed in a blue light, scanned over the crowd. The Captain could see recognition flicker to life on the recruits, while the more experienced White Fang soldiers already began dividing their attention between the impromptu speech and the distribution of equipment. It wasn't the worst case scenario, which was all he could ask for, and as more and more people gathered their weapons, the Tiger-faunus spoke out once again.

"I don't need to tell you how hard we've had it, life outside the Kingdoms. Each of us have lived through it, day after day. So! I'll just remind you all that, once we're done here, I've still got a lecture lined up for you." His voice gradually changed from stern to bemused, and even the people at the back of the crowd could see the man's growing grin. "And make no mistake: It's a boring one, too. So hurry up and get your fill of the grimm, because it'll be over soon.

"We will not fall."

Those words were all the White Fang needed, as they scrambled to meet the threat head-on. The Captain followed, a complicated expression on his face as he mentally sighed. As much as his barely-passable speech worked, he still had a dark premonition of things to come. The faunus retrieved his weapon from its perch, a bardiche nearly twice his size, dust chamber glowing with a red glow as the energies within came to life. His eyes fell on the ramparts, pausing for just a moment before charge too charged towards the walls.

He had arrived just in time to see a massive Boarbatusk, far older than any he had seen before, bulldoze through the reinforced masonry.

* * *

Nox took in his surroundings.

Before him stood a creature he had never seen before, and if he were in the right state of mind, perhaps he would've done something more than just stare at the wolf-like beast. Yet, the Xelor did not care, and the purple glow of his helmet remained fixed to the crimson beads etched into the strange animal's bone-white mask.

Another creature approached, following close behind the first monster. It was a similar, if smaller, species to the one before, another humanoid wolf in pitch-black fur, that had crawled over to him for some unknown reason. The Xelor could see slight differences in its make, a few less plates, a more fervored step, a less cautious approach. Still, one constant remained: the fact that the beast's red eyes tried to bore into him.

Yet, the Xelor paid no heed to the beast, acting with nothing more than sheer passivity as he observed his surroundings. Behind these wolves were other creatures of various shapes and sizes, from birds and boars, to massive bears and scorpions that rivaled even Razortime in size. Yes... Razortime... One of his last creations that he had used to..

The Xelor brought a hand up, his gaze suddenly shifting to his embalmed hand, as his memory flickered back to everything that these bandaged fingers had created. Lost in his thoughts, Nox was unable to notice the monsters around him, their gaze and interest renewed at the sudden spike. A bear from earlier lumbered over to the Xelor, the earth quaking in its steps, turning the armoured mummy's attention away from his hand to the new stimulus.

A roar echoed from the Ursa, and it brought a heavy paw upwards. Rather than match its brethren, the Ursa had decided aggression to be the best course of action, as negative emotions always meant the presence of human. Its claws gleamed in the night sky, moonlight reflecting off the razor sharp blades, before it brought its weight down to bear on the doll in front of it.

And then its arm disappeared in a flash of violet light.

It wasn't simple reflex anymore—the Xelor's actions were now a mechanical response, a _routine_ forced into him, a result of centuries of gathering Wakfu. Input: threat. Output: cessation. Something as simple as that was all that drove Nox now, as he had brought his hand outwards, the focusing core in his palm exploding the air in front of him, as raw Stasis erased the threat.

Stasis... Was he not filled with Wakfu? Nox turned his hand over once more, and finally noticed the purple light that flickered within the lens of his palm. It was a mystery, and the mechanical mummy chose to observe himself in silence, watching as the energies of pure destruction flickered in his grasp. He ignored the apprehensive gaze of the surrounding monsters, or the pained roar of the bear in front of him, choosing instead to watch as sparks of purple began corroding away his armour, minuscule fractures slowly forming on the lens.

Repair.

Another simple routine, though one that was often done subconsciously, through the use of his many clockwork machines. He had no such creations here, however, so the Xelor ignored his worsening condition. There were no suitable materials, and he could not sense any Wakfu from the environment. Rather than question the implications of his new observations, he took it in as objective fact.

He would conserve himself for now.

A light sensation on his shoulder brought the Xelor out of his minimalistic thoughts, and Nox turned to his left, the glow of his mask falling on the sight of a black bird perched on him. Just like the wolf and bear from before, this creature was pitch black, its feathers a constant shroud of darkness, all while wearing a thin white mask. The Xelor felt nothing from the creature's gaze, and after a few moments of silence, ignored it as his attention fell back to the bear.

There was a strange black smoke leaking from the creature's limbs, the eradicated forearms of the bear monster reduced to nothing more than stumps, as an odd... something seeped out from the wound. The Xelor only gave this a cursory glance, as his eyes shifted from the severed arms of the bear to its owner instead. Were he a huntsman, he would've been surprised to see the lack of aggression on the monster's face, as the Ursa had chosen not to press the attack. No fangs were bared, and no stance was taken by the grimm as its focus was fixed completely on Nox.

But the Xelor was not a huntsman, and he only saw a creature looking back at him. There was nothing else to infer from the situation, and Nox turned his attention back to-

An explosion rang out. It was distant, but the sound carried through the air, and the ground shook as unknown reverberations reached the impact sight.

Countless grimm turned their sights to the explosion's source, as smoke began wafting in the distance. The Xelor's gaze focused on the monsters for a few moments more, before following their attention until his eyes fell on the source.

His mask whirred, the left socket of his helmet flicking between lenses, until he could see the source of the blaze: people fighting these creatures. Blades and guns were used to combat the beasts, but there was also something _else_ in the air. One of the women began glowing with a strange light, her fist turning to fire as it punched a masked wolf. Another man brought up his rifle, and it was charged with a green hue before it ejected a spear.

It was a curiosity, so the Xelor decided to teleport over. Nox flickered.

It was a curiosity, as was his inability to move between space, so the Xelor decided to shamble over. His gait was slow and ponderous as he began to move, and Nox paid no attention as the menagerie of grimm followed him in his wake.

* * *

Even she couldn't help but grin.

When her captain first engaged the ancient boar grimm, they were all worried. It towered over Ursai, and its tusks were massive plates of bone that almost seemed to be _designed_ to bulldoze through walls. Bullets bounced harmlessly off the sheet of grimm material, and heavy weapons fared no better.

Yet, the Captain was able to draw its attention throughout the entire fight. His Bardiche was enough to stagger the monster for a few moments, buying precious time for other Faunus to escape, to come up with a plan. A certain Deer faunus, the sentry from before, was one of these lucky souls. However, she was a fighter, and rather than simply escape, she quickly made her way over to motor pool.

Just as she was told, there were components for large weapon batteries, all strapped in to the platforms here, but there was no time to unpack and deploy them. Instead, she had turned her attention to one of the many convoy vehicles, the supply trucks that were filled to the brim with dust. No one questioned her when she jumped into an unmanned truck, and no one questioned her when she sped off back to the boar.

The Captain was the first to notice the Sentry's plan, and rather than voice any complain, he changed his tactics accordingly. The Tiger drew the Elder Boarbatusk into the open, pulling the beast far away from nearby buildings. Another roar sounded out from the Captain, this time to entice his opponent as he gave a mocking roar.

The grimm met his cry with its own. A howl tore through the air as a torrent of fang and bones lashed at the ground, the air growing charged as Boarbatusk began spinning like its lesser brethren. However, age made it far more dangerous, and the very earth was ripped apart with the action, drawn into the circular tempest that the beast had created. A shell of rock and heat surrounded the grimm before it finally attacked, leaping upwards rather than forwards, hovering in the air for just a moment before it came crashing down in a meteoric strike of pure murder.

Experience and common sense told the Captain to dodge, and he quickly leapt out of the way. Moments later, the ground where he had once stood was now a broken crater, forever scarred by the ancient grimm. Old piping shattered, flooding the hole with water, steam forming the moment it reached the grimm's plated skin as the Elder Boarbatusk began thrashing around. A creature of its size would waste precious seconds trying to right itself.

Yet, this moment of reprieve was more than enough for the Sentry. The deer faunus clenched her teeth, her eyes never wavering as she drove straight towards the Elder Boarbatusk.

A primal squeal of pain was the first thing the Sentry heard, before the sound of crumpled metal. Her body felt the impact, but the grimm's ferocious roar was still the first sign of good news. However, she knew she couldn't stay in the now-wrecked vehicle, and it was only through her aura that she could even hope to escape. Well, her aura and her semblance's ability to hit things until they break. The supply truck's door flew straight off its hinges as she wreathed her foot in fire, before she sped out from the opening, diving away from immediate danger.

The moment she left the vehicle, the rest of her companions acted, as dust-powered rockets converged on the crater. Dust begat dust, which translated to a stupidly large explosion, and the entire camp cheered as the smoke was accompanied by the final death throes of the Elder Boarbatusk.

Which is why the Sentry couldn't help but grin.

But the moment of elation had passed, and a Beowolf's howl reminded the Faunus that they were not alone. Moments later, an Ursa stormed into the breach left behind by the Elder Boarbatusk, riddled with countless bullets and wounds. Yet, not even the sparking javelin that was buried in its chest stopped its approach.

The Sentry reacted first, activating her semblance once more as she charged forward, fire coating her fist in one powerful strike as she struck the beast square in its chest. The force was enough to drive the creature back, as the Ursa stumbled onto its hind feet, barely able to keep its balance. A flurry of spears rained down on the Ursa moments later, adding to the lone javelin that had pierced it.

A pack of Beowolves took the Ursa's place, just in time for more White Fang reinforcements to charge in. There was a collective cheer as the Faunus took the fight to the grimm. The crackles of gunfire echoed through the air, roaring over the howls and cheers of the battle below, a metallic storm striking at the lesser wolves, while blades and batons clashed against the larger ones. The Sentry quickly retrieved a new rifle from a supply officer, eager to join the fight once more as she made her way back up to the walls.

From the ramparts, she could see the tide of grimm, her expression falling at the sight of them. Sure, they were mostly lesser grimm, likely led by that Boarbatusk from earlier. However, there were still hundreds of Beowolves and... Were those jackal grimm? Or were they just malformed younger beowolves? Before she could think on that further, the Sentry caught sight of larger Creeps among the horde, swimming through the ground as they made their way closer.

To say that they would suffer casualties would be an understatement. The Deer-faunus's mood had already dampened from her earlier optimism, but she didn't even have a chance to prepare herself for a darker outcome; Her body immediately told her that something far worse had arrived.

She didn't know if it was simply due to her being a faunus, or if it was some aspect of her very being, but the Sentry had always found her instinct to be her strongest adviser. It was no secret that her gut reactions were what had allowed the woman to survive for this long.

Which is why she completely froze when that sense of dread washed over her. Her instinct rebelled.

The sensation came from somewhere, and bringing the rifle's scope to her eye, the Sentry began scanning the horizon. Her vision flitted between packs of grimm and angry Ursai, even stumbling on the sight of another old Boarbatusk before it found the source of her fear.

Staring back at her, beneath an impassive mask of bone-white plating, were two glowing lights of purple. At first, she assumed it was a huntsman, but the fact that it was surrounded by grimm quickly shot down that idea. And what she first thought was a blackened scarf revealed itself to be a flock of lesser Nevermore, wings fluttering the moment her eyes fell on them proper.

The way the rest of the grimm ignored the being... The soulless eyes that seemed to reach her from even this distance... Make no mistake: These observations were bone-chilling in their own right. But what truly clawed at her nerves was that fact that, for all of her senses and instincts as an experienced watch-woman of this camp, the Sentry found absolutely no trace of Aura in that monster.

The Sentry took out her radio communicator, as her brain began trying to formulate something to say. The air cracked as the device came to life, the radio operator shooting off questions from the other side. After a few moments, the Deer-faunus finally found her voice, panic laced in her tone as she began speaking those impossible words.

"We've... We've got a humanoid grimm..."

Those words were all she could etch out, before the Sentry gripped her rifle once again.

* * *

To Nox, the scene before him was simply that: A scene.

A setting where a collection of events took place, and one so far removed from his current situation, he couldn't bring himself to care. He had already lost the world before him, so there was no reason to care for this new one. Rather than try to puzzle why these people and creatures were fighting, the Xelor took in the sights.

Nox merely watched as the plated bear to his left charged forward, barreling over its lesser companions as it made its way to the fort. He didn't break his stride as the strange lizard creatures to his right dug into the ground, burrowing through the dirt as they disappeared from his vision. He paid no attention to his surroundings as his eyes fell on the fiery woman from earlier, staring back at her through his left lens, watching her twisting expression with his own impassive acceptance.

His body reacted the moment she fired, and he held out a hand in empty defiance as a bullet pinged harmlessly off of his Wakfu shell. Or was it a Stasis shell now? His suit surged, the energies corroding the metal fragment, breaking it down into nothingness as he continued his motions. In response to the sudden flare of destruction, the flock of birds around him took flight, charging towards the woman on the ramparts.

More gunfire shot out from the walls, as shards of metal rained down on the beasts. A few bullets tried to focus on the Xelor, but he had enough reserves to withstand the attacks, the Stasis within his systems eager for the chance to be spent. And spent they shall be, as a purple shell of energy surrounded the Xelor, consuming bullets and fire alike.

For the most part, he watched the battle, as more shadow-beasts joined the conflict. A large bird flew in from the distant woods, and a few of the massive scorpions that had trailed behind him turned their attention to the fort. Even the people in the facility started to ignore him in favour of the new masked creatures, and Nox walk through the breach unopposed, his presence mixing in with a tide of wolves.

More of the beasts emptied into the courtyard, but Nox gave them no attention as he caught sight of something familiar from the corner of his eye. Metal. Energy. Resources. It was a pile of discarded junk and unknown powders, but the Xelor could tell that there was still some use left in them. He made his way over to one of the buildings, ignoring the warning cries of one of the people who stood at the entrance.

The guard brought his weapon to Nox, but a shadow wolf removed the threat. The Xelor continued on, making his way into the building labeled 'Armory'.

The Shadow of Noximilien Coxen was a pitiful being with nothing left in life. And when you've got nothing left, you fall into routine. So Nox made his way over to a pile of unknown weapons and dust, taking a piece of metal in his hands before he folded it into a more pliant tool.

For his routine was one ingrained in him over the course of two centuries; One where he meticulously created clockwork beings of destruction, all for the sake of draining Wakfu. And though this world did not hold any Wakfu, the lingering traces of the Xelor's obsession remained.

Without a word, Nox began his routine.


	4. 1-3: Collapse

**1-3: Collapse**

* * *

"What do you mean humanoid grimm?"

No one could mistake the White Fang Captain's words. His semblance ensured that no one misheard him, his voice clearly echoing through the air as he spoke back to the radio. There was a sense of apprehension in the air, replacing the previous vigor that had filled the faunus mere moments ago.

They had just fought off an Elder Boarbatusk, for God's sake! Newer recruits weren't even aware those existed, yet they still held their ground.

And now the grimm-infested wildlands throws something _else_ at them? Neither the inexperienced nor the veterans of the group had any idea what to expect from a humanoid grimm, and many of them had hoped it was some form of miscommunication.

Unfortunately, no more words were spoken from the Sentry. The sound of a rifle rang out from the other end, followed by a shocked gasp of disbelief. Yet, before the Captain could question further, alarmed screams burst forth from the ramparts and the radio, accompanied by the shrill shrieks of _countless_ Nevermore. And this cluster of avian cries far exceeded the screeches from earlier, clogging up the entire radio waves with an ear-piercing sound.

It was unbearable. The Captain had no choice but to act.

"... Brothers and sisters!" The Captain's semblance flared up once more, pushing back the nerve-wracking cries of countless grimm. "We stand against a tide of monsters once again. But make no mistake! Mere monsters will not be enough to quell our voice!" The Tiger-Faunus knew he needed more than words, and with a cry, he raised his weapon to the clouds. Dust ignited, firing a single burst of electric flame into the air, the night sky crackling with a blue and orange glow.

"We will push back this mindless tide! These grimm will **not** stand in the way of our goals for equality, not when we've faced far worse!" He finished his words with a bellow, roaring out to the rest of the fort.

And as the Captain's voice surged outwards, so too did the entireity of the White Fang, banding together in a unified voice. The faunus readied their weapons, turning their attention back to the breach, as squads of noble men and women prepared to face down their opponents.

They were not prepared.

Another hole tore through the walls, as a Deathstalker made its presence known. Massive claws brushed away the brick as though it were nothing, and the beast of grimm wasted no time in hounding its prey. Bullets bounced harmlessly off its shell, and it took the combined efforts of five White Fang Officers, each armed with powerful blades, to ward the monster's attacks. Their squads remained near the back, firing bullets and shells into the crowd of lesser grimm that had followed the Deathstalker, finding targets among the Creeps and Beowolves.

The curtain of bullets were hardly the ideal cover, but it was more than enough to let the officers strike. Two greatswords and a massive axe lashed out in unison, knocking aside an overhand sweep, as their synchronized attack parried the deadly claw of the Deathstalker. A broadsword and rapier followed through with this action, as the officers charged straight into the maw of the monster, driving their weapons into the creature's crimson eyes.

These brave five barely had time to pull back, as their actions were rewarded with an angry shriek from the scorpion grimm. The Deathstalker flailed its claws wildly, another sweeping strike driving forward, tearing apart the ground. Thankfully, the attack hit empty air, and the Officers prepared themselves for the maneuver once more. They had no choice but to parry and counter-strike, for they had to protect the people under them, and none of these men and women dared to back down.

After all, they were mere soldiers fighting for a cause, not an oppressive huntsman who wielded unnatural strength. It was through their will that they had survived in the grimmlands thus far, and it will be through their will that their squads survive with them. These heavy thoughts filled the Officers' minds as they charged once more, carried by the cheers of their subordinates.

But, with only their valour, how could they hold the line when a second Deathstalker joined the first?

This tide exceeded anything the White Fang Fort had seen its lifetime, and yet, in the face of adversity, no faunus backed down. The rallying cries of their brothers and sisters gave them strength, so each White Fang bellowed out in response, adding their own voice to the storm.

They were not prepared.

The earth was torn away as Aged Creeps made their entrance. Rock and soil exploded outwards, peppering the aura of the recruits in the back lines, before wicked fangs followed suit. The mindless monsters charged into the rear, biting and lashing at any faunus who dared to remain behind. But still, some stood, buying precious time for their comrades, as the brave soldiers attempted to ward off the fangs of monsters with mere utility knives, or the bent hull of their discarded rifles.

It was a dire conflict, but the roars of battle still rang out, as more reinforcements surged forth, eight new squads led by the Captain himself. The Tiger-Faunus lunged straight at one Deathstalker, bardiche in hand while his personal retinue turned their attention to Creeps. A Jackal-Faunus, one of the three lieutenants that defended this fort, brought his warhammer to bear, crushing an Aged Creep in one fell swing. He quickly rallied the rear guard, taking command of a handful of squads, dozens of White Fang soldiers eager to follow him as he led them to the other Deathstalker.

His companion, a Ferret-Faunus, was the second lieutenant, and she picked her own targets. With a growl, her eyes fell on the breach beyond the scorpions, taking note of a new tide of Beowolves. Without hesitation, she rushed forth to meet the new pack. The woman danced expertly through the beasts in her way, leaping over the ivory hides of creeps, and snaking around the thick arms of Ursai as she charged her green cestuses with dust. Her hands shimmered in the air, and it was mere moments before an emerald fist met its first victim.

The Alpha Beowolf's head popped spectacularly, fragments of grimmbone splintering to nearby wolves. It was not enough to cripple, but more than enough to harm, as the fiery green shrapnel bore into pitch-black fur. And before the wolves could even hope to retaliate in anger, the Cestus-Lieutenant continued her assault. Beneath a curtain of bullets, she danced around the wolves, ducking between razor-sharp claws, slipping through frenzied lunges as her fists struck against joints and throats.

And the final member of the lieutenant trinity... Stood still.

The Grizzly-Faunus froze, in spite of her naturally brash attitude. For she saw the humanoid grimm that was mentioned earlier. And make no mistake: this monster could be nothing but grimm. She could not detect a single hum of aura from that monstrosity, as only a cold emptiness seemed to fill that shadow. Her Faunus eyes could clearly see its bandaged form, as well as the its strange mask with glowing eyes, as she was certain that nothing but darkness lay beneath those tattered rags.

This monstrosity was clearly far more intelligent than the rest of its fellow kin; where Deathstalker and Beowolves sought to kill, the humanoid grimm sought to cripple. With clear purpose, it shambled to the armoury, even choosing to ignore the Faunus in front of it as it walked over to the building. One of its minions tore apart the guard that stood there, and the beast entered unopposed.

The Grizzly-Faunus clenched her teeth, drawing her scimitar as she loaded a fresh vial of dust into its hilt. In a flash of blue light, the lieutenant sped off to the armoury, as she left faint wisps of ice in her wake.

* * *

Nox paid little attention to the commotion outside. The blackened monsters had chosen to ignore him, and the masked people stopped pursuing him in favour of the shadow beasts.

So the Xelor made his way over to a pile of firearms. He held a sharp blade in his hands, and while it was not necessarily an intricate tool, it fulfilled its task adequately. He picked up one of the many items scattered in the pile, traced along what he assumed to be the weld point of the metallic construction, and applied his blade to the box. Nox met surprisingly little resistance as the item split apart, and he was left with the inner workings of the weapon.

Even as a mere shadow, the watchmaker had retained much of his skill. No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the shadow's skill had exceeded that of Noximilien Coxen, as countless years with the Eliacube had brought Nox as much knowledge as it had done madness. And his listless form wielded this knowledge without conscious thought, absorbing the design of the weapon into his mind.

Yet, skill alone wouldn't be enough for the Xelor to start his work.

He searched the room with mechanical efficiency, his empty gaze never resting on a spot for more than a moment, as he searched the rest of the building. If this was a place to store equipment, then it was also a place to maintain them. And maintaining meant tools. Tools to use, improve, and build. It took mere moments, and the armoured mummy quickly found what he was looking for: situated beyond a crude row of metal bars lay something resembling a workbench.

A thin wall was between him and his objective, but Nox barely processed that obstacle as he brought a hand up.. His mind had already acknowledged that Stasis expenditure was required to bypass the obstacle, so the Xelor made use of the destructive energy. Small orbs of violet shot out from his palm, striking at the metal bars, leaving a gaping hole in its wake as Nox removed a wall.

His suit's Stasis capacity was still within acceptable limits for now, but the Xelor would need a new energy source soon. But how? This world held no Wakfu, so he would have to find an alternative form of energy, lest he be left with nothing but his hollowed form.

He searched.

Fortune came in the form of a mysterious room, filled with munitions and vials of something else, delicately stored in cases and shelves. The care put behind the storage of these vials meant that they were important, and Xelor the took a canister into his hand. His lens focused on the small glass object, and while the container itself was simple glass, its contents was anything but simple. It looked like sand, except more fluid, and far less mundane as light shimmered against the red granules. Nox had no idea _what_ this was, but the Xelor knew full well that it was something important.

He had no time to ponder this, however, as a new voice wrenched Nox's attention away from the object. Turning to the source, the Xelor was... not surprised. He hadn't expected it, but he was not particularly alarmed to see one of the humans from earlier, standing before him with an expression of anger. At least, half an expression, as most of her face was covered by a metallic mask. The plate of metal hid most of her features, but some form of frustration was obvious as she yelled at him in some unknown tongue.

Nox regarded her for just a moment, unsure of what action to take. The woman before him was not immediately hostile, and Nox had not started any plans yet, so by definition, she was not interfering with any plans. As those were the only two stimuli that concerned the Xelor at the moment, he made no motions, content to observe the person.

That is, until the woman took a stance.

A few more unknown words escaped her lips, and the masked person readied her blade. That's when the Xelor finally took notice of the woman's weapon, a simple curved blade of unknown make. The most striking feature of the item, however, was the canister that rested in the hilt of the weapon, filled with a coloured sand. His left socket swapped lenses as he focused on that spot, confirming his observations as he made note of the familiar resource within the container, a blue hue matching some of the vials behind him.

However, there was something more. The powder that rested within those chambers began humming, gradually growing brighter as the woman before him did _something_ to the material.

Nox had no clue what it was, but this was a chance to properly observe the phenomenon in action. A learning experience that was _required_ , should the Xelor have any hope of restoring his energy reserves.

So, without hesitation, Nox's suit pulsed with energy, subconsciously activating the moment he came to his conclusion. The air around the two sparked, and the sounds of battles dimmed until nothing was left. A purple light exploded outwards from the Xelor, consuming the entire Fort in a faint tint, as the reach of Nox's power spread throughout the entire battlefield.

Only the energies of destruction, the Stasis in his suit, cried out in protest as the metal began cracking. His suit was designed to wield Wakfu, and while the violet source was similar, it was still fundamentally different from the forces of creation. The focusing lens on his right arm cracked, and the Xelor felt a surge of heat shoot through his being.

Yet, Nox ignored it. Now was _his_ time.

And for the next few moments, the fort was quiet, the only noise a mysterious ticking of an unknown clock, reverberating through the White Fang Encampment. Neither Faunus nor Grimm made a sound, their motions slowing to a crawl.

For one eternal second, time stood still.

* * *

Two hours is not a lot of time.

But if you spend all that time idling around, sitting in the cramped seats of a Bullhead, then those two hours can drag on forever. Technically, they only had twenty minutes left until they reached their destination, but no conscious member of the Rhinestone Security Corps honestly believed that.

Granted, most of the Survey Team had fallen asleep, choosing to catch up on some much needed rest rather than stare at the bare metal bulkhead. However, the blue-haired brat, now dubbed 'Sparky' by the Rhinestone Security Veteran, was not most people. Rather than get some shut-eye, the kid fiddled on his Scroll, poking at some childish puzzle game instead. The light of the device flickered on the young man's face as he stared with rapt attention, an exaggerated mascot hopping up and down in the holo-display.

The Veteran would've scolded the kid if he wasn't doing the exact same thing at the moment. Sure, he had to deal with a few administrative stuff earlier, some digital paperwork and order confirmations, as well as a message or two from his other employers... but that was an hour ago. Now, he had nothing to do except to idly fiddle at his own Scroll, dragging along hexagons at the behest of a cartoonified Atlesian Knight.

Before the Veteran could finish his task, however, the sound of the pilot's voice called out.

"Uh, sir? You'd... um. You'd better see this. The impact sight is hot."

They were still twenty minutes out, weren't they? Either the boys up top were wrong in their estimates, or something else was wrong. The Veteran quickly pocketed his scroll, ignoring the curious gaze that the rest of his subordinates gave him as he slipped into the cockpit. His sour expression dropped the moment he stepped through the door, his face growing far more analytical than he previous demeanour suggested.

"What's the situation?" It was a question directed at the co-pilot, yet the man in the seat didn't respond. Instead, he merely held up a single hand, pointing at the airspace before them.

That's _not_ good.

Nevermore weren't supposed to be in this area, and a Giant Nevermore like that was definitely not supposed to be here. And yet, there it was, flying through the night sky with a flock of smaller birds, identifiable only by their ivory masks. It was small comfort to see that the beast had not yet spotted them. Sure, their bullheads were equipped to combat the grimm, but a large Nevermore like that guaranteed the loss of a few craft. Their miniature fleet of five would sustain heavy casualties the minute that grimm's attention turned to them.

"This will be a problem... Wait, what's that?" His voice was soft as he examined the horizon, only to see something else in the distance. More grimm, each flying with purpose towards some spot on the ground. But there shouldn't be anything here, unless... "Looks like those rumours were true. Either we've found ourselves a band of displaced nomads, or those grimm are dead-set on tearing apart a White Fang camp."

It wasn't that he couldn't sympathize with the Faunus; the Veteran knew first-hand that the Kingdoms were no paradise. Yet, their actions have been growing more pronounced during these past few weeks. Hell, one of the demonstrations at the Vale branch turned violent a few days ago, when the protesters rioted against the security staff. He lost three good people that night.

But that was for another time. For now, the man took out his Scroll once more, intent on contacting his... associate. Sure, he was out of range of standard radio broadcast, and there was no hope he would be able to connect to the CCT. But these weren't the only broadcast channels available to the Veteran: There was one exclusively used by his employer, and its reach extended even here.

Just as he finished typing up his message, something else happened. The elder man looked up from his device just in time to see a flash of violet light, an instantaneous pillar of colour that exploded out from the distance fort. Whether it was some mystery weapon or unfound semblance was a question he could not answer. Nor could his brain even begin to answer it, as another fact took his attention entirely.

The people within the cockpit stood at awe. The flock of avian grimm, in the middle of their descent to the encampment below, hung frozen in the air, unmoving and unnaturally quiet.

The Veteran appended his message.

* * *

Perhaps it was because of his dwindling reserves. Or maybe it was because the land was foreign, holding no Wakfu in any of its pores. Perhaps it was even due to the fact that the Xelor had been flung between dimensions, torn apart from the very Krosmoz as he was abandoned in this unknown rock. But, whatever the reason, Nox did not have the power to bring time to a complete stop.

Not that he needed to.

It was just knowledge that his mind processed the moment he invoked his power, reaching his logical limits as the Xelor asserted his control over the field around him. And make no mistake, it was _his_ control.

He was still unable to teleport, unable to slip through the cracks between space. Even the most rudimentary Xelor had that ability, so long as they had a focal point of control. Was it because this land held no Wakfu? Perhaps, but...

Nox's attention turned back to the woman before him. His gaze shifted back to the weapon, and the actuators that controlled his mask whirred in approval, a reflection of his own thoughts. It was the closest that the Xelor had to a smile.

This world might be devoid of Wakfu, but there was definitely something else here. He watched as light erupted from the woman's fingers, telltale tendrils of energy reaching out to the blue powder within the hilt of her blade. Even under the influence of his powers, the entire process took a few seconds, which meant the energy's mysterious activation was nearly instantaneous.

But nearly instant was not instant, and he could already see the paths this energy took as it flowed into the weapon. Yes... How it wreathed itself around the steel of the blade, how it seeped into the powder within the weapon's canister... He still did not understand the fundamentals of this phenomenon, but Nox had just confirmed that it was an observable phenomenon. And if it could be observed, then it could be reasoned, given sufficient knowledge.

Finally. A goal.

If the secrets given to him by the Eliacube was not sufficient, then he would simply have to learn more. Was it inherent to these humans? Did the shadow beasts have this power? What of the rest of this world? The stone and animals and trees?

Could this power be harnessed? Extracted? For the first time, his empty mask showed expression, the metallic covers of his lenses narrowing ominously. The Shadow of Noximilien had found himself a purpose. A starting point.

He wasted no time procuring the woman's weapon, his opponent unable to respond as he began to pry apart her fingers, intent on taking the weapon for himself. After all, she was helpless, so it was a simple task of-

There was a crack.

The energies within the woman's palm resonated with Nox's hand, as a spark of blue light arced from the blade into the palm of his hand, striking against the focusing lens. Pain surged through Nox, stirring up the Stasis that dwelt in his body, as the man let out a mechanical cry of pain. His voice echoed out, the unknown energy lashing out at him for just a moment longer, before time resumed.

* * *

The Lieutenant was confused.

Just a moment ago, she had tried to speak with the figure, only to confirm that it was most certainly grimm. The humanoid monster made no attempts to communicate with her, choosing instead to stare at her with an empty mask, violet lights boring into her, completely devoid of aura. There was no question; it had no soul, so she had prepared herself for battle, pouring her own aura into her blade. With the same convictions as her brothers and sisters, the Lieutenant stood ready, prepared either to strike it down, or to fall in battle herself.

So what had happened? One second, she was preparing to swing, and the next second, her aura had been completely drained, fatigue consuming her. Had the monster done something? She could faintly recall the sounds of an ancient clock, but that made no sense. Nor did the creature, as it was no longer in front of her, but beside her, reaching out for her weapon with a plated hand.

Purple lightning sparked from its palm, as an unbearable heat shook through her. Yet, the pain and exhaustion that the woman felt was pushed aside at the next moment, unable to prepare for the _sound_ echoed out from the monster, a cross between creaking metal and a pained cry as she felt her aura burn away.

And just as her aura began to fade, so too did her consciousness, her body completely drained by the grimm's unknown attack. The Grizzly-Faunus fell to the ground, her vision slowly fading to black as she tried to turn her eyes up to her aggressor. As her vision met the gaze of the monster's, the Faunus had found her last thoughts to be those of confusion, rather than fear.

For she could swear that those impassive eyes, supposedly devoid of emotion and life, narrowed for just a moment.

Not in pain or anger or fear, but in conviction.


	5. 1-4: Reaction

**1-4. Reaction**

* * *

It had been a while since Noxemilien Coxen had felt physical pain.

A contradictory statement, since Nox's last waking moments before his demise, before he was tossed into this foreign world, was a battle between him and the World of Twelve. Sure, not the entire World, but it was a conflict that consumed the efforts of an entire race, as well as the Eliatrope named Yugo and his dragon brother.

And even before that, he faced off against the ancient dragon Grougaloragran, a bitter loss that left him bruised and drained of resources. The Xelor was no stranger to conflict, and considering he had ultimately failed in his goals, it might seem remiss to say that Noxemilien had not felt physical pain in quite a while.

But that's just it. That instance where energy met energy was the first time Noxemilien Coxen, the man beneath the Xelor, had truly felt physical pain. A flash of sharpness that shot through his being, the moment that azure glow arced into him. And it burned.

No... it wasn't just a sensation of heat now. At that point of contact, when the strange energy met with Nox's suit, something else coursed through him. It was electrifying, both in the painful sense, as well as another, dissolving through his body as phantom nerves flared to life, threatening to burn out moments later in a dying flare. The foreign energy within him twisted and lashed out against the Stasis that filled his figurative veins, the machine around his bandaged body heating up as the metal grew painfully unbearable.

But the Xelor ignored the pain, because something far more important had occurred: For a split second, when this mysterious energy made contact with the man... The Stasis within him _fluctuated_.

Were he not a tinkerer of over two centuries, Nox might've missed that instant. Yet, he was fully aware as he felt the Stasis within him rise for a just moment, before exploding away, consumed alongside the foreign energy. It was an instantaneous thrum, and one that quickly gave way to a new sense of pain, but Nox didn't care; That singular moment was enough to give the Xelor a starting point. After all, that single spark represented something far greater than the Xelor could hope for, and that was well worth the pain.

He had merely been trying to find a replacement for his energy reserves, but that single twist of Stasis and something else meant one thing for Nox: In some unknown circumstance, the mysterious energies of this world was capable of intersecting with the very forces of creation and destruction. It was capable off interacting with Wakfu and Stasis.

And this interaction birthed something _very_ close to the energies of the Krosmoz. Even if it burned away immediately afterwards.

Where Xelor once had a vague goal, he now found a defined purpose. His attention immediately turned to the young woman before him, sprawled unconscious on the tiled floor. She would be important for Nox's experiments, which meant that the Xelor would have to guarantee her survival, both from the elements, and from the shadow beasts outside.

As if sensing his thoughts, the wall shattered, as one such beast made its entrance.

A large boar-like monstrosity stood before the Xelor, its ivory mask drenched with blood, as crimson eyes bore down on him. A single shake of its head cleared the creature of debris, tossing aside a corpse and some rubble as it let out an ominous snort. The creature's size rivaled the entire room, and the bone weapons that were attached to its snout looked less like tusks and more like cleaving blades of a massive axe, all ready to charge down the Xelor at a moment's notice.

Yet, like all the other beasts of darkness, this one ignored him, giving the man a momentary glance before turning to the fallen woman behind him. The beast reared itself on its hind legs, ready to bring the full weight of itself to bear, fully intent on crushing the fragile person before it.

"No no no. We can't have that, can we?" For the first time that night, Nox spoke, a tinny voice laced with an airy tone, almost chastising the monster before him. "Even Igole didn't misbehave that badly. Poor Igole... But he was a loyal pet who properly learned his lessons." Then, the air chilled, the grimm beast pausing for just a moment as it caught a change in the Xelor's tone. "I wonder if you'll learn yours?"

A purple light, mixed with something else, consumed the boar utterly.

* * *

The battle was not going well.

The Captain, through his own strength and will, managed to take down one of the two Deathstalkers that had broken through the outer walls. A group led by his subordinate was enough to hold them off until he could join up to assist, his bardiche gleaming with an orange light, dust fueling the weapon as he helped the men and women under his command deal with the second of the greater grimm.

However, the night was far from over, and the moment the scorpion fell, more foul monsters joined the fray.

Without warning, three more Elder Boarbatusks charged in, demolishing what little remained of the outer walls. Most of the sentinels had fallen by now, and there were few soldiers remaining, none of which could've warned their peers. Instead, the massive Boarbatusks entered unopposed, screeching out their dominance as their concerted cry echoed through the air, only to be joined by the howls and roars of the lesser grimm. An intense pressure filled the camp, and even the Captain stood still, the full weight of the conflict bearing down on him.

But he was the Captain, and this fort was his responsibility. His moment of weakness was just that; a moment. Immediately after the twisted howls, the Tiger-Faunus gave a roaring cry of his own, his voice hoarse and filled with determination as he bellowed above the cries of grimm. He aimed his weapon high, firing off another bolt of electric flame from the polearm, gathering the attention of his friends and enemies once again. And what followed that rallying cry were new orders.

"Vermont!"

The Jackal-Faunus immediately stopped, his warhammer wound tightly in his grasp as he stood beside the Captain. He gave his superior an affirming glance, before turning his head back to the growing tide of grimm. The lieutenant knew that the Captain wouldn't be a match for three of those boars, so he would readily stake his life to help his friend. All he needed was-

"Lead the recruits to the motor pool. We're evacuating!"

What?

Before the Jackal-Faunus could question the Captain's orders, the Elder Boarbatusks charged forth, the ground quaking beneath their steps as two made their way towards them. The third seemed content to rampage haphazardly, finding a target in the form of an abandoned sentry tower, as it turned the wooden fortification into mere splinters and rubble.

Meeting the two boars was the Captain's bardiche, exploding out in a crackling orb of fire, warding off their charge for just a moment. The Captain gave a firm stare to Vermont, and the lieutenant knew what he had been entrusted with. There was no time for hesitation, nor could the Jackal-Faunus question his orders, as he turned his attention back to the squads of White Fang soldiers. It took a few simple orders for them to follow the lieutenant out, leaving the Captain behind.

But the Captain was not done. Even as he charged forward, intent on striking his first target, his voice boomed through the air once again. "Iris!"

Deep in the grimm lines stood the lieutenant, who wielded the emerald Cestuses with reckless fury. She had heard the previous orders, and worry filled the Ferret-Faunus's heart when her name was called. The woman quickly stopped her assault, hopping away from her latest quarry, as she nodded at the Captain's voice. It was a faint acknowledgement, one that most people wouldn't expect to carry through the battlefield, but she knew her Captain had spotted her.

"Make your way to the communication tower! Tell them we've been overrun!"

She gritted her teeth, but followed through with her orders, ducking out of the way of an Ursa's feral strike. Her fist met the bear's arm, a loud crack filling the air as she shattered the joint, before withdrawing further from the battle. Her eyes turned to the center of the camp, plotting a pathway through the sea of grimm, and it only took a few moments before the lieutenant was off. It was frustrating, to say the least, that they'd have to abandon years of effort in a single bloody night.

But effort was cheap, and something anyone could make given enough time. What was important was the lives behind the effort. The Ferret-Faunus would certainly do her best to protect those lives, and neither Creeps nor Beowolves could stop her as she made her way to the radio tower.

Content with his subordinates' resolve, the Captain he returned his attention to the battlefield, staring down his opponent. The first Boarbatusk had been winded by his strike, slowly steadying itself as it tried to clamour back up to its feet. However, the second beast had managed to cover its brethren, and the Captain was unable to capitalize on the opportunity. He'd need more help, and he knew just the woman to assist him.

"Finally, I need-"

But before he could finish his sentence, a violet light exploded out from the armory, mixed with the death throes of the third Elder Boarbatusk, and a familiar colour.

The Captain froze, as did his two bestial opponents, as three sets of eyes turned their attention to the shattered armoury. There, etched in the concrete of the structure, was a massive hole that was completely devoid of rubble, utterly annihilated by the unknown flash. The air was filled with the remnants of purple light, as well as ghostly wisps of another dying colour.

_Azure_ wisps, that were the last vestiges of his subordinate's aura.

Circumstance decreed that he assume the worst, for the Captain had to consider the lives of the entire fort, and he bit back the feeling of despair that had wormed its way into his chest. Instead, he gave out one final order, steeling himself for the battle ahead, his last words echoing throughout the entire encampment.

"... I leave Vermont in command. Do what you must to bring our brothers and sisters to safety."

And with that, the Captain let out one last cry, his voice echoing into the night as he charged straight at the accursed humanoid grimm.

* * *

"What the hell was that?"

The Veteran was the first to break the silence. Of course, neither he nor the pilots had an answer, and they could do little but watch the distant conflict with wary eyes. Each of the men shared a quick look with each other, as if to confirm what they just saw. Yet, the incredulous look on their faces only meant one thing: they definitely saw it.

Those three men, and likely the rest of the pilots of this survey team, definitely saw the flock of grimm _freeze_ in midair. Sure, it had only lasted for ten seconds or so, but... This held terrible implications. Was that a semblance? Some unknown hunter who could completely stop grimm?

Or maybe the White Fang had gotten hold of some fancy new tech? There have been murmurings of the faunus group attacking Schnee Dust transports, after all. Hell, the growing number of raids were part of the reason why Rhinestone survey teams were required to have security personnel and assault droids. Still, maybe they managed to swipe an experimental deterrence system or something? It was no secret that SDC had signed _something_ with Atlas, and that meant all sorts of potentially new tech.

But... For some reason, the Veteran doubted it.

And his doubts were vindicated the moment he spotted a sudden flash of purple light, shooting forth from the distant fort. Neither he nor anyone else knew what that light was, but no one could miss the grimm's reaction, as the distant cloud of monsters turned their full attention to the encampment. The Veteran was fairly certain that a deterrence system was supposed to shoo the grimm away, not draw them closer.

A few more flashes shot out from the camp.

He had no idea what was going on, and the Veteran was unsure if he even had the resources to find an appropriate answer. They were less than fifteen minutes away from their destination now, but something in him told the man that they should turn around. It didn't take a genius tactician to see that their minuscule security team, cobbled together over the span of half an hour, wouldn't be enough for that fortified White Fang base and its mysterious weapon. And that didn't even factor in the sheer amount of grimm that were in the area.

So he let his gut make the call. The Veteran leaned in to the cockpit, activating the craft's communicator as he spoke into the radio.

"Alright kids, this is Grandpa Burgundy. We're turning around and heading home, since one of you forgot to pack enough toys for the trip." The Veteran's solemn face was in stark contrast to the informal tone that he had just put on, cheerfully informing the rest of the Bullheads that they were cancelling the survey mission. If it wasn't for the fact that all pilots present had seen the skies above the distant base, they might've questioned his choice of words. But the order was relayed successfully, and the Veteran soon stepped out of the cockpit.

With that little announcement out of the way, the Veteran decided to make the most of his time, since he had another hour and a half of pointless flight. Maybe he'd try to beat his old record on the Scroll game, once he sent another message to his boss.

Before he could settle himself back on his Scroll, however, another voice decided to pipe up, and the man turned his attention to the source.

"... How bad is it, boss?"

Sparky had the bright idea of speaking out. Surely the kid saw his superior's sour face when he stepped out from the cockpit, right? So why did he even bother to ask? Well, the Veteran still made a mental note to give the brat a single point for calling him boss, but that was something to sort out later. For now, they had to deal with something far worse.

"Bad enough that we're turning around to get more guns."

That little sentence was enough to wake the group. The security team gave the Veteran a confused glance, but before anyone else could prod for further information, the man shook his head.

"That's all. You'll get a proper debriefing later, once we're back. Then you can content yourselves on three hours of sleep before we drag you all out here again." And of course they'd be back. After all, they still had to survey the mysterious meteor.

They just had a little bit more motivation, in the form of White Fang's new secret weapon.

* * *

Nox watched with curiosity as the masked man charged at him with reckless abandon. He could feel the anger in the guy's voice, and the Xelor had no idea why. Weren't they in conflict with these shadow beasts? Surely, the cessation of one more masked boar, accidental it may be, would've helped the odd person. And yet, here he was, charging at him with some primitive weapon.

No, that's not right. The Xelor's attention was fixed firmly on the new man's weapon, and even he could tell at a glance that this weapon was anything but primitive. It was more than just a simple sheet of melted metal, as the entire metallic shaft shone with energy. Perhaps this was related to the strange vials of energy earlier? It was being processed in a different way to the previous woman's blade, and Nox couldn't help but wonder how _else_ the strange substance could be used.

But that was a thought for later. For now, he was being assaulted by a man in an elaborately silly mask. And while the Xelor may not have use of his teleportation, he wouldn't need it for a simple creature like the one before him.

The masked man's bardiche came down in an overhead swing, cleaving through the air as sparks of fire emerged from the blade. An interesting use of the powder, no doubt, and Nox took the time to examine the phenomenon as he stretched his hand out, blocking the attack effortlessly with an ephemeral shell of Stasis. He couldn't see the man's face, but Nox had been around the unpleasant company of masked minions long enough to read body language, and the Xelor could tell that the masked man was not deterred by the sudden defense.

A far cry from his useless Grambos, really.

With that thought in mind, Nox gave the man a curious stare, his own empty mask boring into the other man's, waiting for his assailant's next move. It came quickly enough, as his opponent quickly withdrew his polearm, bringing it back to his side before... gathering energy? Now _this_ was something to observe.

Now that Nox knew what he was looking for, the Xelor didn't need to stop time to observe the phenomenon, as a familiar energy began resonating within his opponent. Just as before, thin wisps of _something_ crawled along the man's palms, but rather than snake into his weapon, the masked man seemed to utilize it differently, as the energy began gathering into his mouth.

Nox redoubled his shell, prepared for some energy attack that would undoubtedly shoot forth, and the Xelor watched with rapt attention as the wisps dissipated. Then, moments later, the attack came.

At least, it should've come. Instead, rather than some attack, the man before him spoke. Maybe it was a bit louder? But besides that, the gathered energy disappeared into nothing more than simple words. If the Xelor was capable of feeling disappointment, he would be groaning with annoyance at the moment. Instead, he merely cataloged the event, mentally noting that the unknown energy truly had a wide range of applications.

But that still left the Xelor curious when he saw the man's posture change once more. Another shift in body language, this much more positive and self-assured. However, that still meant nothing to Nox, and after a simple shrug, he resumed watching the man.

A few minutes passed, and neither party did anything. The masked man was content to watch him, while the Xelor merely stood there waiting for some other action. Yet, when nothing came, Nox decided he had had enough, and turned his attention away from the polearm wielder.

Which surprised the masked man for reasons Nox couldn't comprehend. Surely he hadn't expected him to engage the person in conflict, had he? The Shadow of Noxemilien had better things to do, especially since he finally found a curious field of study. He simply didn't have time to play around with the locals of wherever-this-was, whether they're person-shaped or shadow-monster-shaped.

Instead, the Xelor turned back to the fallen masked woman, hefted her up over his shoulder, and made his way to-

... _Now_ what is it?

Nox turned back to the masked man, who was screaming about something or another, brandishing his blade once more. This was getting tiresome, and Nox would rather deal with his research than the ramblings of some random person. Even if the person was glowing again, and... Actually. No, this was a good thing.

The Xelor turned to face the man, shifting his posture as he held the unconscious woman in both arms. The masked aggressor was wary, but didn't dare attack, lest he damage the masked woman. This action alone was enough to confirm the casual relationship between these two people, and Nox smiled inwardly as he stretched his arms outwards, offering the unconscious body to the man.

Confusion fueled the other's steps, as he seemed to wrestle internally with himself. Yet, seeing no other motions from the Xelor, he finally relented, collapsing his Bardiche into a shoulder-plate as he took the woman. And just as Nox handed over test subject #1, he activated his suit, burning away yet more Stasis as the air around him came to life. An arc of purple lightning shot out from his hand, aimed directly at the man's stomach.

* * *

And now, it was the Captain's turn to fall. He didn't know what to expect, and he mentally berated himself for being so naive. Yet, how was he to know that the humanoid grimm would pull something so... deceitful?

That was a good question, actually. The Grimm were creatures of destruction; They didn't do deceit. Yet, the soulless monster in front of him performed exactly that, just as convincingly as any other person might've. Everything from the supposed gesture of mercy and goodwill, down to the empty glare of satisfaction that he could almost feel from the metal mask when it finally betrayed him.

Yes... The Tiger-Faunus had no more doubts about this matter. This was not a humanoid grimm, but rather, something else entirely. Something that might've once been a person, but was nothing more than a soulless husk, wielding some unknown power. And this power seemed to be the antithesis of aura, as the burst of purple lightning shot through the Captain's body, draining him of his reserves in one electrifying swoop.

A dark pain shot through the man, something born of the purple lightning and his aura, and already, he could feel his consciousness begin to fade. There was pain, but there was also a drastic sensation of... loss. He didn't know what or why, but he suddenly felt tired, and the Captain slowly fell to his knees. The sudden appearance of the floor did little to stem his confusions, and his mind was left asking questions as his vision faded.

Yet, he did not lose hope. His only saving grace was the fact that he had relayed his orders to his loyal Lieutenants. In a matter of moments, the remaining supply trucks, packed with dust and munitions, would be detonated, providing the perfect cover for his comrades' escape.

And a chance to bury the remaining monsters in a pile of rubble.


End file.
